Orc's Light
by rainweptsoul
Summary: Orc's soul is tarnished from his committed crimes, Howard is the lamp to light his path.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own any of Michael Grant's lovely characters...If I did I wouldn't be posting here. :)**

**This will be somewhere around like six chapters, if I decide to finish it. I would love to know what you think. Enjoy.**

Orc's Light

RainWeptSoul

Orc liked the light. It was pretty, the way that the girl molded it in her hands. It was like a delicate snow globe, Orc didn't want it to stop. Who was the girl? Orc didn't know, his memory wasn't very good. He was drunk. Orc knew he had to stop the girl. It was against the powerful, tall boy's rules for her to do magic. She had to be stopped. But Orc liked the light. Where was Howard? Howard would know what to do; Howard always knew what to do. Orc could hear Howard now. The thin boy's voice was as clear in his head as if he'd been there. "Don't be a prat." Howard would say. "Do it, you have to if you want to drink." But Orc didn't want to do it. Orc liked the light.

It felt surreal the way Orc moved. He clomped along barely there, bickering with the Howard who wasn't present. Charles Merriman never even remembered swinging the aluminum bat, but he would never forget the sound it made as it impacted with the girl's skull. Her scream scared him. The sound of metal against bone still ricocheted inside poor Orc's ears. Fat, wet tears dribbled down the giant boy's still human cheeks, as he ran off, the sound of his feet as they hit the concrete echoed all down the alley way. Bette crawled, leaving a trail of blood in her midst. No one dared help her in fear they would receive the same treatment.

Gasps, heavy breathing, continuing like clock-work. The only intervals were when Orc let loose a pained sob as if he'd been the one hit upside the head. He sheltered himself between the safeties of two houses; their looming structures cast dramatic shadows down onto him leaving only the right side of his face illuminated. Skin. Orc had never been sure if he believed in God, or anything, but he prayed to everyone he could think of, begging, begging for forgiveness, for mercy, and for death.

"Orc? Orc is that you?" The prepubescent voice of Howard chimed. "Man, Orc, are you there?" Orc only issued a sorrowful grunt in response to his best friend. "Come on Orc. Hey, dude what's wrong?" Orc tried to speak but all that came out was a stifled syllable overcome by a shaking solo of sobs. His typically strong face representing that of a child, snot ran down his cheeks combining with the salty droplets of tears and sweat. It was all Howard could do to refrain himself from wrapping his arms around the heaving, much bigger, boy. But that would be too far, Orc may be his best friend, but physical contact was much to intimate a gesture for the pair of bullies. "Hey man, it's ok, I'm sure it is. Whatever it is." A very slurred "no," was all that Orc could muster between the body wrenching sobs that consumed him. "Hey! Orc, I can't help you if you don't tell me what happened." Howard yelled slightly too harshly out of bitter frustration. Orc only sobbed more in response, retreating into the depths of the corner.

The air was tense with the awkwardness of the situation. Howard watched as Orc fumbled with a beer can, his large hands shook so heavily that he couldn't get a grasp on the pop top long enough to open it. Orc let loose a grunt of frustration before heaving the can with what seemed to be inhuman strength. Howard barely leaped out of the way before the can smashed into the wall behind, where Howard's head had previously been. Howard stooped down tenderly removing the can from a pile of garbage before dusting it off on his weathered jeans. He popped the top and held the can out to Orc. "Here," his voice unwavering. Orc pushed the can aside, but Howard persistently held it out until his arm shook from the strain. "I'm sorry, Orc, I didn't mean it, just take the freaking can." Orc outstretched his own arm removing the can of booze, almost daintily, from Howard's weakening grasp. He chugged it, stopping only to offer the last few drops to his friend. "No man, right now I think only one of us can afford to be drunk." Those last few drops would later ooze out, seeping in to the flaws of the cement, but never meeting the lips of a human mouth.

**Well that was that. I had a lot of fun writing it. Do you think I should countinue with chapter two?**


	2. Chapter 2

**So here's another chapter. It's a little short, I'll try to make the next one longer. Thank you so much for all the nice reviews, they really made my life. 3 I'd love to know what you think of this next chapter. I apolgize now if there are any grammatical errors that I missed, I have not written in quite some time and these stories are really the first writings I have done for anything besides school in years. Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoy it.**

Chapter 2

The air was chilled by the general aura of the mood as the silky black sky showed the first sign of stars. Neither boy had let a word cross their lips since the last drops of beer had spoiled nearly a half hour earlier. A soft intake of breath followed by the warm exhale parted Charles's lips. The tears had long since dried on poor Orc's cheeks and the loving best friend had taken on a devout silence.

Orc's mind was screwed up, innocence had long since left. He tried to fathom the last time he had thanked another soul, properly. When was the last time he had lifted a single finger for the benefit of anyone else? What would Astrid think of him? Astrid was pretty. The blonde girl with the pleated shirt, starched as white as her pure heart. The way her blond waves sculpted to the delicate mold of her face. Her tiny frame was so small compared to that of himself. Like a doll he could easily pick up, easily shatter. No. Orc swore at himself, he'd already forgotten, he needed to remember what he had done. The drunkenness had won, a hazy sense of being clouding his very existence. The last thought Orc had before his eyes fluttered shut was of Astrid, Astrid was kind, Orc liked the light.

"Orc, hey, are you still with us?" Howard's voice cracked the solemn silence he'd sworn to. Orc could still see the light of the crystal stars caressing that of his eyelid, but could only just hear the soft question of the thin, dark skinned boy. Orc was too drunk, too distraught to respond. "Oh Orc," Howards voice shook. Orc would never hear the empathy and passion Howard's words had nearly let free. A tear slid down Howard's unwashed cheek as he let himself believe, just for a second, that Orc had drunk himself to death. "No."

Orc's chest lifted, and with his head pressed close, Howard could hear the giant's heart beating like a clock. The glass of Howard's emotion tipped and shattered on the ground as he whispered his compassion to the older boy, he told him how much their friendship meant to him, how he'd never leave, and how Charles Merriman was his only friend. The sound of laughter from happy kids dashing through the streets drifted down the alley, crowning the moment.

As Orc finally lifted his sleep heavy eyes he let Howard's words, with their poetic nature, gather in his ears. He let every word, every phrase congeal into his mind, he didn't want to forget, he liked the light. Bette's death forgotten, for now. The last tear Orc shed, for the moment, fell, gliding down his cheek as if an artist of great skill had painted it. Charles Merriman silently stood. He outreached his arms and lifted Howard from his steady stance on the cement. He brought the boy's lanky form up to his height and embraced him in a hug that spoke every thought, every shimmer of love Orc had ever felt for their friendship. Howard wiped the tear, shaking as he did, from Orc's cheek enjoying the warmth of the hug. After a minute, Howard jumped down from Orc's hold, the chill of the air hitting hard. "Well, I have to go take care of some booze up by Clifftop," Howard spoke hurriedly, any sign of the moment gone, "catch ya around." Howard turned on his heel and strode back down the alley, finally disappearing around the corner. Orc was alone. Orc missed the light.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, it's been a while. I apologize, I intend to continue this, I promise. Anyways this chapter is short; I will try to have a longer one out this coming weekend. I have been pretty busy, filming and drawing. Hehe and Fear came out 3 So plenty of motivation now. I'm running short on ideas, kind of, so if you have suggestions for this fic I would love to hear them. For a while I debated changing this into more of a romantic story, but I'm pretty sure I'm just going to leave it at friendship. What's your opinion on that? Well, read and review, thanks so much. Enjoy.**

He stood there; face half illuminated by the flickering streetlight, the bulb made a crackling sound as it slowly died leaving the alley way in a smooth coat of blackness. Orc smiled a sweet half smile, his thoughts foggy, and his heart's tremor everlasting. He teetered off, balancing back and forth, step by step, the intoxication lingering. The sorrow was gone, abandoned, and a springiness of sorts filled that of his step, for now. He walked through the shadows, they moved like puppets drawn by strings of light and object. The firehouse loomed ahead, Astrid would be there. An urge of such intoxication roared inside his gut, a neediness to speak with her, to tell her of his forgotten problems, his forgotten soul. Astrid was kind. Orc carried on towards town square, the dirt showing the effects of the fire, sodden with water and ash. Smoke lay close to the ground, waiting for a wind to blow it off, a wind that would never arrive. It had been the first fire of the FAYZ, one of many iridescent flames that would streak the horizon before the end.

"Oh look at that," the voice crooned a nasal song, interrupting Orc's jumbled thoughts. "The stupid thug wants to show his pathetic face." The remark stung, Orc didn't know the kid, if he had he would have felt the guilt once again weighing down. This boy had been a friend of Bette's. More jeers and protests rose up, cracking any silence that may have existed. A warm anger burned in his throat, a combined mix of unjustified fear and bile. He squinted, his vision suddenly clouding over, blackness fighting to consume, his body urging him to pass out. If he squinted he could see, but what he saw was a crumpled Bette, slowing clawing and pulling herself to the firehouse. Orc remembered, memories of that evening flooding back, the gates unable to hold the emotion. He wanted to forget.

The next hour was a blur, there was vomit on his chin, he must have puked. Figures moved in and out of his vision, a giant blur of color and noise. There was yelling and tears and….Orc had forgotten. Where was Howard? He needed Howard. Where was Orc? Orc didn't know. He heard words, but to him they were nothing more than an endless string of vibrations rolling off other's tongue at a rate far faster than Orc's drunken mind could calibrate. He was confused. He missed the light.

He heard Sam. Astrid must be close. Orc was scared. He allowed the pity to envelope him as Howard's words from earlier filled his mind_. Don't leave me. I need you, I…I don't know….your just my best friend. Don't…don't listen to the other's, ok? You're nothing like they say. They don't know you._ He loved Howard; Howard was his best friend, his only friend. Howard had told him he was special, no one had ever said that to him before.

Orc never saw Bette die, if he had the depression that had swept over him would have been impossibly great. If tears still existed for him that evening they would have been streaming down, creating more of a mess of his face, for he now believed that Astrid would never forgive him. For before his stature was the unmistakably dead corpse of young Bouncing Bette. He knew in this single moment he could never be redeemed. Sam deserved Astrid; Orc was nothing more than a loser, a sinner, a dead individual in heart.


	4. Chapter 4

**Yay new chapter and it is somewhat a decent length. Howard WILL be in the next chapter, which I have started and might post tomorrow, assuming I don't get dragged off to do Easter stuff. Anyways, thanks so much for all the lovely reviews :) Enjoy. Oh one more thing, I know it is strange that when I do dialogue I don't go on to a different line, but I'm a really descriptive person when it comes to writing and I find it is awkward for me to go on to another line for one line of dialogue followed by four lines of description and then followed by another line of dialogue. Either way I can say that dialogue is one of my least favorite things to write. haha ANYWAYS, enjoy. **

Footsteps, the folly a foot naturally makes as one walks, the sound that now rung in Charles Merriman's ears as he stood dumbstruck, unwavering from the slaughtered girl. He felt the sudden urgency to flee and run; images of punishments he might receive for his deed, punishments he felt he deserved; they flowed through his mind rampantly. Crossing his vision, shaded red, five years old, cold and dark, the crack of a belt, the yell of a voice, the wallowing in guilt, and the endless repetition. For every time in his childhood Orc had taken a beating from his father he had broken, enraged, taking his anger out on everyone else, a constant cycle. He was a bully no doubt, though never a killer, until now.

Severed from himself, he retreated, taking unaccustomed sanctuary in the blessed darkness that the evening provided. Cast on the floor was the drawn figure of the boy from Honduras, it moved, following its master's body as he strode forwards, staring down at the horror, the horror that Orc had inflicted. Cloaked in the obsidian cover, Orc gazed up as Edilio kneeled down, holding the hand of a girl since passed. "Why?" Edilio's voice faltered, speaking to no one, "why is this happening?" He reached out with his free hand closing Bette's eyes for the final time, her irises dull and empty, bleached, being only the reminiscence of life, a somber fate, and the first death of the FAYZ.

Edilio rose from his spot on the floor, shaking with an emotion he would become quite accustom to, he cocked his head, searching the shadows, something in his gut told him he was no longer alone or had never been alone. Frightened Orc stepped back, hiding, a clang echoed out as his back met with a shelf, a toolbox spilling open, falling to the floor. Metal and chrome bounced back, screws rolling, pulled along by gravity; Orc yelped a nail embedding itself in the sole of his foot, running straight through his shoe into the sensitive flesh. His shoe filled with the sticky substance, running scarlet, pouring out. He felt the coolness, the roughness of the metal ripping at the tissue and muscle, biting, tearing. "Orc is that you?" In a flash of panic induced by the thought that he had indeed been found Orc forgot entirely of the thorn trapped under his skin. "Orc are you there?" The second question left unanswered. Pressed against the smooth brick, chest heaving, Orc waited, waited to be found, waited for the light. Orc liked the light. "Orc," the naturally tanned boy stepped forward, inching his way to the place where Orc resided, where Orc was praying to disappear.

Light penetrated Orc's dilated pupils, automatically shrinking in size as colorful dots danced in and out of his vision, this wasn't the light he liked. Orc yearned for the other light. Before him the fourteen year old Honduran stared back, a black flashlight shining a beam that made Orc feel as if he was burning. A spotlight pointing him out to the world, evaporating the little solace he'd found, branding him as the filthy murderer he was, the boy damned to Hell. And all for what? A six pack of beer.

Edilio's next words knocked him back into reality, "Oh there you are, man I thought you were Caine or Drake for a moment." His words were spoken slowly, as if Edilio knew of the drunkenness Orc had subjected himself to. Not that it wasn't a known fact that he was a budding alcoholic, and all the staggering and exaggerated slurring that had taken place that evening only supported the theory that was quite clearly forming itself in the other boy's thoughts. "Man, you look terrible, do you feel ok?" Orc's eyes were sunken in, swollen from the tears, bloodshot from lack of sleep and alcohol abuse, he was covered in a thick layer of sweat giving his appearance the look of wet nail polish that had been smeared before it had dried. His body shook, an odd sight for someone so big, someone who had always been feared as the most terrifying, most threatening bully. He had been reduced to a child, a pathetic sight, in a matter of a few hours. Dried blood, flaky and brown, was smeared in small droplets across his clothes and face, blood of an innocent, the blood that had persecuted him. He rubbed at his face trying to remove the damage, his skin protesting at the roughness of his calloused hands, the pain almost refreshing. He'd forgotten that Edilio was there, time then filled with dry heaving, the want to puke, the hope that he would pass out once more, and several violent spasms that lasted only seconds before he would fall still once more. "Orc?" Remembering he shook his head, "Uhh," he stuttered, unsure how to respond, "I'm fine...yeah…just tired. Why would you care anyways, you filthy..." Orc couldn't think of an insult. The lie was blatant, but not even the calm hand of Edilio wanted to pursue the situation to anymore of an extreme, the drunk before him was a disaster, a ball of emotion waiting to roll down, crushing everything and everyone in its path. "Well I got to go bury Bette, she's gone, I just don't think it is a good idea for you to be around here." "Why don't you hate me," Orc barely managed to get the question out, regretting his curiosity as soon as he had asked. "I don't know, I probably should, you could kill me in a second," he paused,"I guess I just don't believe you will."Orc nodded walking off, he winced, the nail making itself known, he wasn't sure how to get it out, to drunk. Where was Howard? Howard would know how to get it out. Orc liked the light.

He staggered, the air felt chilled, a knife dragging across his skin, raking pain and muted agony, the combination of his speared foot and his surroundings making it that much more difficult to walk. He was tired, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion, his mind clearing with each step as the alcohol slowly lost its effect. The pain intensified as the induced form of pain killer disappeared; he was weighed down by both physical and emotional pain, he felt as if he would burst, unable to support himself, the pain to great. He heard the click of a gun as the safety was turned off, the sound of normally happy kids muting, turning into hushed whispers as they saw the predator. But it wasn't the gun they were running from, it was him. The barrel of the gun was pressed hard against his neck; it tickled such a funny feeling for something so deadly. He half hoped the unknown figure would just pull the trigger. "Do it," Orc tempted them. "I wish I could, hell, you have no idea how much I want to, but that wouldn't make Caine very happy now would it? He thinks you're useful apparently, I disagree your nothing more than a coward with a stupid expression." "Shut up, Drake, I don't want no trouble." "Oh calm yourself you big baby, as tempting as blowing your brains out is, I'm only here to deliver your promised beer." The bottles clinked together as Drake pulled the gun down from its stance of Orc's neck. "Well take them," Drake sneered, he loved seeing the idiot look like he was about to wet his pants, hell he probably did. He laughed as Orc fumbled with the bottles. "Oh one more thing, if you puke on me I swear to God I'll kill you." He turned on his heel, stalking off, reeking arrogance in his step.

A crash and a flower of broken glass careened down inches from Drake, ripping at the material of his pants, soaking the edges in musty brown booze. "Watch it; you don't want to test me," anger radiated from his words. "That's what I thought," Drake walked off, the sound of a gun quickly followed by the collapse of a child echoed through the block only seconds later. The kid had made the mistake of walking past an infuriated Drake and had paid. Drake laughed a sadistic laugh, turning and giving Orc a spurious wink followed by a sneer. "See you later."

The bottle fizzed, liquid pouring over the edges as the cap was hastily expelled. Orc brought the mahogany colored bottle to his lips, the glass reflecting the light that was flickering down from the lamp post. The pungent taste so familiar in Orc's mouth, he swished the liquid between his teeth several times, the booze fondling the roof of his mouth. He swallowed, loving the searing effect the alcohol had on his throat. Already he could feel the drunkenness resuming its position, the pain fading.

The sun was just beginning to dawn by the time Orc collapsed on to his bed, eyes fluttering shut.


	5. Chapter 5

**Howard's back 3 Anyways, I like this chapter, not the best out of all of them, but I like it. The lines are there simply because I switch in and out of Howard's and Orc's viewpoints, I hope it isn't too confusing. So I decided to go more on the romantic side which will most likely appear in chapter six. I've been getting a ridiculous amount of inspiration from the song "Special Needs" by Placebo; it is like the perfect song for the Orc/Howard relationship. I'm rambling...sorry. Last thing, do you want me to continue past the six chapters? I just want to make sure I'm not dragging this out to far. haha. Well enjoy, I appreciate all of your opinions so much. :) Oh and a heads up there is a single, small, fairly vague spoiler for plague in here. **

Daylight fell through the blinds casting a striped gobo onto the wall, a roar of protests awakening Orc from his sleep; the racket was coming from just outside the house he shared with Howard. His eyes were swollen shut, crusted together from tears and salt, tediously he pulled his eyelids apart, the light burned as it penetrated his eyes, sharp and bright.

* * *

><p>"Anyone want to bother telling me why you have moved outside MY house?" Howard drawled out nasal and perturbed. "Orc killed Bette," a young girl maybe ten or eleven by the looks of it chimed in, "we want justice." "Believe it or not I think justice poofed with the creation of the bubble, so if it's justice you're looking for I fully recommend you go run yourself into the barrier," Howard snapped back. "Or better yet go throw yourselves at the mercy of Drake; I'm sure he'd appreciate it." Howard pushed his way through the crowd, several bottles of beer in hand, making his way to the door. "Hey losers, you know it was unlocked right?" He slammed the door suddenly thankful to be out of the crowd and in the shelter of the four walled room that was the kitchen. "Hey, Orc, you here?" Not expecting an answer Howard made his own way up the staircase. He found Orc in the bathroom, just staring at his reflection, prodding his face with sausage like fingers. "Hey Orc, why didn't you answer me?" Howard knew fully well why, not that he cared. Orc turned, acknowledging Howard's presence.<p>

"Whoa, you look like hell, man, what happened?"

"I killed Bette."

"Yeah I know, the crowd outside has made it fairly well known."

"Do you hate me now?"

"Obviously."

"Really?"

"No. "

"So why you say it?"

"I don't know."

An awkward silence blanketed the conversation, neither boy knowing what to say, neither mentioning the previous evening's events. The jeers and taunts still rose uncomfortably from outside, the air filled with the tenseness that the remarks had caused. Orc brought his chubby hand to his face, rubbing at his temples, trying to rid himself of the sharp pain in his head.

"What's wrong with your foot?"

"What?"

"Your foot, what's wrong with it?" Howard spoke slowly putting unnecessary emphasis on each word hoping that Orc's already slow mind could keep up. He glanced down, what he saw was only a confirmation, Orc's foot was swollen, bruised, and bloody, almost sickening. "I can't remember," Orc was telling the truth, a look of confusion gracing his expression. "Let me get this straight, your foot looks like someone took a knife to it and you can't remember what happened. Are you stupid?" Howard regretted the remark seconds after it had left his lips, for he could already see tears bubbling at the edge of Orc's eyes waiting to drip down.

"Ok wait, man, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called you stupid. It's just the crowd, you know? They're really starting to piss me off."

"I'm not stupid."

"No you're not."

The lie burned as it left, but what was Howard supposed to say? Sometimes the truth hurt more than the lie, and besides Orc was already in such a state of emotional distress that he needn't add to the problem.

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><p>Orc stood up, the sheets falling down from the flimsy bed, his foot hurt, he'd forgotten why. He could feel the blood pounding in his head as if a small wind storm was taking place right outside his ear. He had to pee, so off he went staggering off to the bathroom ready to do his business. Orc recoiled, something monstrous had passed the mirror, slowly he turned his head and much to his own dismay realized he had seen himself. He touched his face, prodding at the swollen skin, red and blotchy from tears, irritated from the constant feel of his own hands. <em>"Hey losers, you know it was unlocked right?"<em> The voice was distant, probably just outside, but Orc knew it was Howard, the boy's voice was one he heard in his head often, somewhat his self conscience. What would Howard say to him today? But Orc remembered Howard's kind words. Orc liked the light.

The door slammed shaking the shoddy walls of the house, moving for several seconds until the vibrations the door had caused ended. "Hey, Orc, you here?" Orc didn't bother responding, he felt no reason to, after all Howard would be up the stairs in a second looking for him. And sure enough he heard the echo as the thin boy marched his way up the stairs to the tiny bathroom.

Howard had called him stupid, after all his lovely words; he could feel the liquid rising, congregating in his tear ducts, waiting, waiting to be introduced with the swollen skin of his cheeks. He listened, barely, as Howard tried to excuse his words, the words that had hurt, a slap to the face, inflamed. "I'm not stupid," he defended himself, whimpering, heart breaking. "No, you're not." That was not the response he had expected, for once Howard's voice was not laced in the sarcasm he had become so fond of using, a pure sentence it reminded him of the other things Howard had said, the special words. Orc loved the light.

"Well, are you planning on showing me your foot or do you intend to have it stay that way? It could be a new trend, ya know, foot piercings." The pathetic excuse of a joke went unnoticed, Orc backed up falling back on to the closed toilet in order for Howard to have access to his infected appendage. "Jesus Orc, why didn't you take this out last night," Howard's voice contained something, was it concern? Orc didn't know. "I didn't know how, too drunk." Howard shook his head, but less out of disrespect then it might appear. There was something about Orc, his uncorrupted side, a glimpse at what he could have been, at what he was, it had shown through. "Well just hold still ok, I want this to hurt as little as possible." Howard wrapped his fingers carefully around the metal stump; he pulled, his fingers losing their ground, slipping off. "Umm Orc? I think I might need to use pliers." "What?" But Orc was speaking to empty space Howard had already made it out the door to the basement.

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><p>The basement was dark; Howard felt across the wall looking for some kind of switch, he didn't find one. "Hopefully I won't screw myself," he spoke to no one, "not what I meant." Hands outstretched he felt his way through the room, looking out for anything that might resemble a tool box. Brick, all brick, rough, cold, brushing against his fingertips. Stone one day beaten with a whip, slowly chipped away. Stone, one day clawed by a girl begging to die, begging to go to God.<p>

* * *

><p>It hurt, Howard's hands pressed against the underside of his foot, prying desperately at the embedded injury. And then Howard was gone, not like he poofed, Orc could hear his footsteps, but he just wasn't there anymore, he blamed the alcohol in his system. Five minutes, then ten passed before he heard a victorious cry escaped Howard, followed by a precession of thumps back up the steps.<p>

"I'll do it as quickly as I can," Howard's voice was raised trying to gain some base over the crowd outside. Orc grunted, waiting for the pain to ignite. The pliers clamped around the nail, a small crunch assuring Howard of its grip. He pulled, scarlet flooding from the depths, pouring, gasps as metal slid from skin. Orc grabbed his foot, feeling the hole, blood dripped down his fingers, wet and sticky, leaving a game of connect the dots on the tile. The water ran red. Howard moved his covered hands in and out of the water, the pressure at medium, massaging the muscle. Orc was perplexed, watching the blood puddle around the toilet, covering his hands, his foot, rust colored. Howard bandaged his foot, he wasn't sure when, but when he looked down it was covered in white fabric that smelled of cleanliness and hospitals. Shining. Orc liked the light.

"Man, let's go get nailed, it's been a long morning."

"But it hurts."

"What? You mean your foot?"

"Getting nailed."

Howard chuckled, laughing briefly at Orc's innocence.

"Wrong kind of nailed."


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey, it's been a while, this was probably one of the hardest things ever for me to write, romance has never really been my thing, but I tried my best. So in theory this could be the last chapter, still debating whether to go longer, however if I do it will be a sequel and under a different title, so if I do write it I hope you still read it. Thanks so much for all the support. :) I can say I have started another Orc fic which has a considerable amount of Astrid and Howard, and is currently pre-FAYZ, still debating whether to post it. Anyways, I got off topic, enjoy. Oh one last thing, the lines in here are a little weird for they most part they mean I've switched character view; however one is simply just mentioning that time passed, hopefully I didn't do such a terrible job that it's too confusing. **

Carbonation rose, tiny, orb like spectacles dancing towards the surface. Popping, vanishing, escaping from the wall of glass, a bubble so ironically unlike the bubble that covered the FAYZ. There was a fizz, the rigid edge of the metal lids indenting artistic embossments in the boys' palms. Brown glass rippling as the two translucent bottles clinked together; a noise so dead to the world, all they heard was anger, jeers that slowly drove Orc's mind further into the crevice of insanity, deeper into guilt. The alcohol seeped into him, burning a hole in his stomach with the absence of food, a pain that would become so familiar, a friend and an enemy. Orc blinked, his eyelashes short and jumping, his pupils expanding, focusing on Howard. Howard's face crunched stretching into a cringe, so much less accustom to the burn of beer than Orc himself. He watched as Howard's throat sunk in as he swallowed, chest heaving, the bitterness setting in. Orc laughed, his stomach shaking, unsure whether he was laughing at Howard or if he'd finally reached a breaking point. "Shut up," Howard pushed Orc's shoulder, Orc didn't move, his weight far greater than the black boy's. "Nice try," for a second Orc sunk into the memories, the time before the FAYZ. "I said shut up." Silence. "How are you Howard?" The question was unexpected, the surprise shown off Howard's face, shock.

"How are you?"

"I heard you the first time, Orc."

"So how are you?"

"I'm fine."

Orc stared contently back at Howard, a puppy waiting for a treat, waiting to be indulged. Howard obliged with a sigh and an eye roll. "Ok Orc," his voice coated in a light sarcasm, hinting at some truth, "how are you?"

"I'm scared."

"And why are you scared?"

"I don't want to die."

"Why would you die?

"Because I killed Bette." Orc paused, scared to talk, his next words were a subject never brought up with Howard, new ground. "And what," his voice stuttered, "what if she doesn't want to talk to me anymore?"

"She? Wait, who?"

"Astrid."

"Astrid's a stuck up bitch." Orc looked hurt, his face downcast, his eyes losing the brief second of happiness they had held. "You really like her? Howard's voice had shaken, only for a second, but a noticeable tremor, it hadn't been Orc's imagination, and it hadn't been the alcohol playing mind games. Orc nodded, his face unknowing, waiting for Howard to take the lead with words once more. "Why?" Howard was upright with his speech, awaiting a response. "I don't know." Orc brought the bottle to his lips, the smell wafting in his senses; he touched his lips, beer running in little streams down his chin. Howard reached forward, his hand drifting, debating whether to wipe the stain away, he waited too long. Orc brought his own hand down flicking the droplets away, watching them curl under, wetting the calloused finger pads. Howard touched his scalp, raking his fingers through the strands, grease clinging to his hand, he could feel the alcohol settle, taking its reign on his mind.

* * *

><p>The air was heavy, warm with ash and the smell of garbage, dust filled, falling through the room, small clouds of grime floating above every surface, half scintillated by the single lamp in the room, golden beams, filth. Brown leather, stretched across like a face, taunt, sunken in where Orc had fallen, pushing springs and cotton up, Howard rising with the cushion which was considerably higher than the one under Orc. The floor was dusted in spilled beer, bottles, and caps, a giant dream catcher laid out carefully, sparkling with disproportionate reflections. Each drink ingested, each boy drunken into incoherence, yet ever conscience. The bottle fizzed, protesting, fighting, losing, a small dying dragon, cap removed. The crowd was silent, whether because they had left or because both boys were in their heads they didn't know. The silence was weightless, serene, a divine blanket after hours of insistent noise. The sky had grown lightless, Orc missed the light. The dark was where the bad things happened, where the bad things had happened, where he had been the bad.<p>

"Do you like person, Howard?" Howard laughed, the way Orc had said his name sounded funny, almost a new dialect. "Don't we all?" Orc's face scrunched up, Howard could practically hear Orc's brain working, attempting to get a grasp on the words spoken. Drunken Howard was almost as confusing for Orc as sober Howard. "I-no-understand," the words slurred, running together, inaudible for anyone but Howard. "Whatever," Howard didn't feel like repeating himself, Orc wouldn't grasp it anyways.

"Who?"

"Who, what?"

"Who do you…" Orc never finished, words swallowed, compacted into a pill, a placebo, his mouth graced by a new warmth, soft, so unfamiliar, so wonderful. The graze of enamel against his lower lip, a nip of affection, an unpracticed gesture, sloppy, but yet so right. Howard's lips remained pressed into his own, a velvety softness, wet with alcohol, unresponsive. Seconds drawn out until finally Howard pulled away, settling back on his respected third of the coach, wiping his mouth clean, damp with the kiss of his best friend. Orc brought his hand up, mind still working hard to figure out what had happened, if it had happened at all. Had Howard kissed him? Orc liked the light.

* * *

><p>What had he done? If he'd been sober he'd never had been so daring. Idiot. What would Orc think of him now? It had just been so tempting, so wonderful, it never should have happened, he should have been sober. No one could find out, Howard didn't believe he was gay, no it had been spontaneous there was no hidden meaning, just a drunk brain confused, nothing more.<p>

"Howard?"

"Yes?"

"Did you?"

"What are you talking about?" Somewhere deep down Howard hoped he could convince Orc it hadn't happened, tell him that it was a hallucination and what not. "That was nice," Orc spoke slowly, trying to keep his words from running, trying to keep his grammar intact. "What?" Howard recoiled, expecting an entirely different set of words from Orc's lips, his soft lips. _What? No. Stop thinking Howard._ He wondered if he'd gone completely insane.

"It was my first."

"Yeah. Mine too."

"You mad at me, Howard?"

"Why would I be mad at you?"

"I don't know."

"Let's not do that again."

"Ok."

* * *

><p>Seconds passed by, an empty silence filling the time, ticking past with nothing spoken, nothing done. Finally Orc decided to speak once more, "Why Howard?"<p>

"It doesn't matter."

"Yeah it…"

Howard interrupted, "So tell me why you like the stuck up girl again." It was less of a question then a flat out change of topic.

Orc liked the light.

Charles Merriman loved Howard Bassem.


End file.
